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I loved the way his voice lilted when he wasn’t trying to contain his accent.
Although all the kids had been born in the US, both of their parents had instilled in them their history. Had taught them that, even though they were Americans, they had Spanish roots.
Each child spoke fluent Spanish, as well as French, at their mother’s insistence. I suspected that Nico knew even more than that. He was always a fast learner, and was the one to help me with my Spanish course while he was home. He had the patience of a saint when it came to teaching, and I’d always felt he’d make a great teacher. But I’d heard that he made a great SEAL and an even better cop.
The first room I came to was the living room; it didn’t even look the same. It was completely remodeled. The large cabinet TV that used to take up half the living room was gone, and in its place was a huge flat screen TV that dominated nearly the whole wall.
There were huge, plush brown couches facing the TV, and the large fireplace was refinished with beautiful new stonework.
“This place is looking great,” I said, eyes snagging on the wall of pictures on the side of the room.
I walked to the pictures slowly, two catching my eye right off the bat.
One picture was of me and Nico standing on a large branch that overhung the pond on their property. It was the year before I graduated; I was seventeen to Nico’s twenty two.
In the picture, he’d had his hands around my waist as he prepared to shove me off, but I’d gotten a hold of his shirt.
The picture captured us just before we went over the edge, and our happiness showed.
The second picture was of me giving Nico a hug the day he deployed for the first time.
I’d been a hot mess the entire time, and it’d taken everything I had not to cry.
He’d known I was upset, too.
The picture was of him hugging me close to his body, his nose skimming along my brow.
He had his hand fisted in my hair, and our bodies were plastered close together.
If anyone else were to have seen these pictures, they’d think we had been in love.
And, to a point, we had been.
It’d been the kind of love that one has for another person. It’d been innocent and fun, but it’d never progressed past kissing.
Kisses I’d remembered and compared, for the past eight years, against everyone.
It was also why I hadn’t had sex with anyone.
My body knew what…and who, it wanted. And wouldn’t accept anyone else.
Then, my eye was snagged on the other picture. The one I’d taken of him the day he’d left for deployment for the second time.
The one that’d been a month and a half after my parents and two brothers had died.
“I knew you were there,” he rumbled.
My head hung.
I hadn’t been ready to talk to him yet. Hell, I hadn’t said more than a word in nearly a year after I’d witnessed the murder of my brothers and mother.
“I know you did,” I replied weakly.
“I loved the pictures. This one was my favorite,” he said, eyes scanning the picture from behind me.
It’d been my favorite, too.
I’d taken it as he was entering the military transport that was taking him to his boat leaving port in San Diego, California.
His hand had been resting on the side of the plane as he walked inside, and he’d turned just before going in, scanning the crowd one last time.
He’d been looking for me and had found me.
The moment I’d captured his picture, memorializing it for all time, was the moment a slow smile had crept over his face.
The men that’d been in the background I’d blurred out, so you only got the sense of the people surrounding him.
He’d changed a lot in the year since that picture had been taken.
I had another one nearly identical to the one I’d sent him of the day he’d returned home from his deployment.
His eyes, those melty, chocolate brown orbs, had turned cold and hard.
He’d been sporting a new scar on his jaw, and I’d captured him as he scanned the crowd once again.
Not in a way that he was looking for someone in particular, but in a way that showed he was searching for danger.
It’d been heartbreaking, and both photos had hung in my apartment, side by side, ever since.
Now, though, they were packed away in moving boxes, but as soon as I had my new place livable, they’d go right back on the wall.
“Let me go get some jeans and a t-shirt on, and we’ll head back outside. My present is in the barn,” he said as he walked away. “Make some coffee, por favor.”
I laughed as he slipped in and out of Spanish. When he was relaxed, his words became intermingled, much the same as his mother’s did.
I followed directions and went to the kitchen, happy with what he’d done in there, as well.
Gone was the checkered patterned floor, and in its place was dark cherry hardwood floors.
The red cabinets had been replaced by a nearly black wood, and the appliances had all been upgraded to stainless steel.
There was a new bar instead of a kitchen table, and in the tables place was a bay window seat that overlooked the backyard.
I made coffee, pouring two cups into travel mugs just as Nico walked in, pulling his shirt over his head.
It was a definite tragedy to have him covering up that fine body, but it was probably for the best. I wasn’t able to talk coherently when it was on display. And it didn’t matter if he was trying to make it on display or not, he could be cleaning up puke shirtless and it’d still be on display.
He took the cup from my hand as he passed, heading straight for the back door that had a path leading to the barn.
The entire property was lined with barbed wire, the only exception being the front that was lined in steel fencing.
